


A Long December

by notjustmom



Series: Thoughts on The Six Thatchers [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas fic sorta, Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, The Six Thatchers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Inspired by the Counting Crows song of the same name...Sherlock on Christmas day, the first Christmas after Mary's death, Rosie's first Christmas.Ignoring everything we know, or think we know about Episode 2.





	

"If you ever catch me being overly arrogant about anything, ever again, please just say the word, 'Norbury.' Please, will you do that, for me?"

Mrs. Hudson shot him a worried look, but heard something in his voice that made her nod. "Norbury?"

"Hmm...yes. Thank you." He sat at his laptop and banged at it for a bit, then stood and moved to the window. "It's Christmas Day, isn't it?"

"Yes, dear. I was going to go to my sister's but the weather is so...and I didn't want to leave you -"

"Alone?" Sherlock sighed and shrugged. "I'm alone every other day, unless you count my brother's weekly visit, and he only does that to make sure I'm clean."

Mrs. Hudson starts to make a noise, but he turns and flashes her half a smile that almost reaches his eyes. "And you, you never left me, did you?" He pauses for a minute, then draws a deep shuddering breath in. "She'll be taking her afternoon nap about now. For all of the craziness, she did have a routine, somehow. John probably got rid of the bear she slept with because I gave it to her."

"No. She still sleeps with it, it's the only thing that works."

"Molly?" Sherlock blinks at her and almost moves towards her, but stops. "Why are you here?"

"No one should be alone on Christmas, Sherlock. Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I thought you'd have left for your sister's -"

"It's alright, dear, I'm just going to head downstairs, I have some of those biscuits you love, Molly, be back in a moment." Mrs. Hudson got up from John's chair, walked over to give Molly a kiss on the cheek, then disappeared down the stairs.

"Sure you should be here?" Sherlock turned back towards the window, trying to distance himself from her presence.

"I - you have no idea how sorry I am."

"Why? What for?"

"You don't deserve -"

"Of course I do. I promised him. I promised her, them, all of them. I would keep her safe. I didn't. I couldn't. I know now I am not built for friendship, companionship, a family, of a sort." He waved his hand indicating a couple walking hand in hand outside, in the snowstorm. "Why are you here, Molly?"

"I brought you a present."

"A present."

Molly put the bag she carried on John's cha - he had to stop thinking of it as John's chair. It was no longer his chair, hadn't been his for such a long time now. "I'm sorry. This was a mistake." She bit her lip. "If it means anything to you, Sherlock, I still think of you as my friend, and I miss you." She turned to go and he almost stopped her, but changed his mind. It didn't matter anymore.

He waited until he could hear her speaking quietly to Mrs. Hudson, then the sound of the street door closing behind her, then he moved cautiously to the chair. He picked up the bright, shiny red bag and opened it. Inside he found a framed snap of Rosie, a recent image; her curls, Mary's curls were coming in, her hair was more auburn now, her blue eyes dancing, smiling at Molly or Lestrade, or John, whoever was taking it, clutching the little bear Sherlock had placed next to her in her cot, the very first time he watched her sleep. He had always been a bit afraid of her, she was so small, so fragile, and yet, she had such power. Power over everyone, especially himself. No one else had ever made him feel the way Rosie did. He knew she loved him, from the day they met. It was simple, she looked at him and knew, she knew he would do anything to keep her safe, simply because he loved her.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"You should try -"

"Try?"

"Call him."

"Who?"

Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms and was about to lecture him, he knew the face.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me, Martha. It would only spoil the day for him and Rosie. I know you mean well, but he has every right to be angry. I promised him, and I failed them all. I can't ever make amends for what he's lost."

"It wasn't your -"

"fault? Of course it was. You know it was. Everyone knows, I didn't have to push, I could've stopped, should've stopped talking. I froze. I could see the bullet spin, and I didn't move, didn't push her out of the way. I was waiting for it to hit me, to finally finish me off. I was ready, Mrs. Hudson, ready to die for her -"

"Sherlock, love. She made a choice. She knew John would never have forgiven her if you died again. Some day, he will be back. He always comes back, Sherlock, he needs you, as much as you need him. It's always been that way, always will be."

"I don't think so, Martha. He -"

"He what?" John put Rosie on the floor and Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment, then knelt down as the little girl got to her feet and toddled over to him, without falling over once.

"She's walking."

"Yeah. A couple months now."

"John."

"Don't. I, uhm, owe you an apology. You loved her too, I think you were her best friend, you were the only one who could really understand her. She could never understand how you forgave her for everything, and yet, I abandoned you - I - am just as responsible, I shouldn't have let her go alone, should have made her wait for me. I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

Rosie shrieked as Sherlock held out his hands to her, he still wasn't quite sure this was really happening until one of her small hands reached for him. He blinked at the small person who was smiling at him, nothing but joy on her face, and for the third or fourth time in his life, he felt his heart crack open just the tiniest bit, as he scooped her into his arms.

"Forgive me, Sherlock? Please?"

Sherlock buried his nose in Rosie's hair, somehow she still smelled of Mary's scent. His nose crinkled as he dared to finally look at John.

"Rosie pulled Mary's perfume off her dressing table last week, the bedroom still reeks of it, I'm sleeping in the nursery, on the recliner, not as comfortable as - may I?" John nodded his head at his old chair, and Sherlock made a noise, before he could clear his throat enough to speak coherently.

"Please? It's, uhm, just, please, sit. Tea? Let me get Mrs. Hudson to -"

"Slow down, I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock, just need to sit somewhere quietly for a minute, if it's okay with you?"

Sherlock nodded and he felt Rosie snuggle against him, her fingers tightened on his shirt and she closed her eyes. He heard her sigh, then she began snoring as she always did when she had a bit of a cold. He stood still, afraid to move, even breathing seemed optional.

"She missed you, I missed you. You have no idea how much I missed you."

Sherlock shook his head carefully as to not wake the child in his arms. "Thank you, John." He whispered.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock."


End file.
